Finding Faust
by AGrayCat
Summary: Stuart Pot is tired after a long day, but he won't sleep until he's cleared his mind with the help of his keyboard and his youngest bandmate. Phase 1. This fic is based around the song Faust, would recommend listening before reading.


The eerie chords of _Faust_ echoed through Stuart Pot's otherwise empty mind.

He dimly felt the bedsheets pressed against his back, but as far as he in his half-conscious stupor was concerned, the earth, the ground, could be miles away. It seemed as if he were drifting through a mist. A soothing, blurry fog obscured his senses; he could feel it spilling out from him with every warm breath he exhaled, flowing around him, lifting him away from the messy sty of faded tees and spilt pain meds into a grey cloud made of nothing but sound.

He had been in the studio earlier. Worn from a day of… well… dealing with people. Dealing with the world. Everything, from the pushy crowd at the supermarket to the pushier bass player who directed his life, was wearing down on his nerves. You'd think, with as much work as he had gotten done, his day would have at least felt full, but his brain twitched with emptiness and aggravation. He needed sleep, maybe some calming meds. But first, he needed to resolve the clamoring noises in his head.

He had latched himself to the keyboard, and decided to try and make some sense out of the stray notes which scampered across his mind. Not just across his mind… He could feel it somewhere in his chest, an achy sort of yearning for something that would fill a broken, empty space. There had been a lot of broken spaces within him, for a long time. Sometimes, he blamed the car accidents (courtesy of his… friend? He's not really sure). But not when he really thinks about it. And yes, he does think, much more than his bandmates think he does. These just aren't the kinds of thoughts that you chat about over pizza.

He pressed his fingers to the highest keys. They pierced the air, shrill, familiar, empty. When he really thinks about those holes inside of him, he realizes that they have probably been with him all his life. An emptiness which his physical injuries and trials had only made him more aware of. So many hollow spaces. The thought of it makes him want to cry out in despair. However…

The music notes. They were puzzle pieces. Somehow, he would make them fit.

He had been playing the keyboard for a few hours, emitting well-played but unfeeling tunes as his watch climber closer to midnight, when something finally clicked. Beneath his wandering hands, something formed which sounded right. Not just correct, but truly _right_ , intimately in tune with the rhythm of the echoing space in his chest. The notes were flowing out of him freely now; playing them was utter bliss. He smiled. It was beautiful.

He frowned. It was incomplete.

Lovely, moving, almost filling, but something was missing. He lowered his head in thought. The lyrics. The tune was a mass of feeling, powerful but disorganized. It was leading somewhere, but where? He sighed with frustration, leaning back in his chair, but continuing to minister the keys. He needed the words. Words which would help him understand what all of this meant. He didn't want it spelled out for him, no "the meaning of this song is…," True music, true feeling, couldn't be diminished into a simple, erudite description. The right lyrics, however, could strike a chord within you, make you understand what's going on inside of you, not on a logical level, but in a much deeper sense.

So lost was Stuart in thought that he barely heard the door to the studio creak open. A small face peered around the door and instantly turned towards the keyboardist's form. Vivid green eyes took in the man who sat motionless, except for his hands, which continued to float ghostlike over the keys as his fingers fell upon them in rapid strokes.

Her feet tapped softly as she treaded across the carpet. Stu turned his head slightly to cast his dark eyes towards her and greet her with a small smile. "Hey, Noods," he said as she placed herself beside him at the keyboard, her chin barely level with the keys. For a moment, she returned his smile, warm and friendly, before looking down at his moving hands. Stu watched her as she observed his playing. Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, and her eyes seemed to cloud over slightly as her mind strayed somewhere else… To wherever the music was going.

Stuart's body tingled as he felt something from within that empty hole inside of him reaching out to her, then he felt it. Something reaching back. Between them. A warm, tingly sensation, like brushing fingertips, as something connected. Her mouth opened, and she began to sing.

"Shigoto no ato ni,

Me ga sameru,

Nani ka shinakucha,

Shigoto no ato ni."

Stuart could feel the words. He could feel that they were right, and although he didn't know a word of Japanese, he knew what her words meant. There was an understanding between them. The empty space in him was an empty space in her too; _maybe_ , Stuart thought, _it's in everyone. An empty, tired space…_ His eyes closed, and his voice began to flow with hers.

"After a hard day,

It's time to wake up,

I need a make-up,

After a hard day."

Their voices quieted, and Stuart's hands went still. He smiled to himself as a wave of serenity washed over him, filled him. The broken places would always be there, but as long as he had the right music, he could make it better.

When he heard a small yawn, Stuart turned to look at his youngest bandmate. She too wore a peaceful smile, but it was coupled with drooping, sleepy eyes. Quite frankly, Stuart was feeling tired as well. Noodle looked up at him with her sleepy grin, then reached out for a hug. Rising from his seat, Stuart swept her into his arms and lifted her off the ground.

"Come on, love. You must be tired. Let's get you to bed."

Her arms looped around his neck, and her head fell against his chest with a sleepy sigh. She would be asleep by the time he would arrive at her room, tuck her in, whisper "good night," and leave…

Stuart lay in his own bed, sleepy gray fog pulling over and around him, as the notes of a calming song lulled him to sleep.


End file.
